


red granite

by manzido



Series: techno has problems [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Dave | Technoblade-centric, Depression, I'm Bad At Tagging, Overthinking, Past Suicide Attempt, Sad, Sad Dave | Technoblade, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Why do I do this, more than that ig, no beta we die like tubbo, please read these, technoblade really needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28066089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manzido/pseuds/manzido
Summary: everyone reaches their limit, some break while others shatter.or where techno finds it hard to cope
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson
Series: techno has problems [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998871
Comments: 11
Kudos: 319





	red granite

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS PLS!! MAJOR TW
> 
> this is messy because i am a mess haha, i apologize. i have no idea how to put my feelings into words.
> 
> ME ONCE AGAIN TELLNG YOU TO READ THE TAGS

The cold granite floor of the bathroom floor was a sharp contrast to the warm liquid on his pink arms.

It was so relieving. Techno felt like he was dying, and it was the only way he could think to distract himself.

But he definitely went too far, if the small wave of lightheadedness gave it away.

He really hated that this was the only way he decided to _deal_ with his problems.

Fuck, he wasn't even dealing with them! Fighting pain with more pain did absolutely nothing. It just- there seemed to be no other way. At least this way he could control who and what hurt him. Even if it did nothing for his wellbeing, it made him feel better for a while after.

The shiny piece of metal glimmered under the dull light of the bathroom. It was pretty- covered in a ruby red. He held it between his pointer and middle fingers before slipping it to his thumb. With the smallest of smiles, he pressed the blade against his wrist before quickly dragging it across. A simple process

Blood seeped from the wound, slightly pooling, forming small beads, and ran down his forearm. In some odd way, it reminded him of the numerous times he had taken the lives of many, without hesitation. But instead, he was on the bridge of taking his own.

Techno really wanted to, it was just... so fucking hard.

It was such a simple act, so many ways, but so many outcomes.

Last time he was _lucky_ enough to survive. They had found him early enough he would not be left with something permanent.

Cause it turns out brain damage is a possible outcome of ODing. Who would fucking think about that?

As much as he would fucking _love_ to, he did not want a repeat of last time, last year.

The night was not something he remembered. The buildup, somewhat. But the day he woke up-

It was one he would love to forget.

He remembered waking up in the hospital, hearing a sharp gasp, and a hand tightly holding his. It was all so confusing at first, he didn't really remember what had happened, just waking up in a cold room with many wires stuck to his chest.

It turns out Wilbur was the one who had found him. Or that's what Phil had told him later on. His older brother had found him on the floor of his room, in a pool of his own vomit.

And that's what he regretted. Only that.

What kind of person allows their _brother_ to find them like that?

Even Phil had told him how scared _he_ was when he received the call from Wilbur, that they were on their way to the hospital. How fucking terrified he and his brother were at the chance of him not waking up.

Techno did not want to give them that hope, cause more pain if it didn't work.

But he felt so fucking alone. It felt as if he was just going through the motions, reliving the same day without much change. An endless cycle he couldn't break himself from.

The world was an overwhelming place and he was suffocating.

It would be so easy to just do it now-

The pinkette groaned, leaning forward to rest his head on his knees. Why was it so difficult? Why couldn't he make up his damn mind for once? What did he want? What were the outcomes? Wh-

If he was looking to do anything, it should be to get _help_. Cause if he sat in this fucking room for another minute-

But getting help meant another trip to the hospital, that would be too much.

It was the first step to get better, to not feel like this. But it was the step he feared taking.

His gaze once again fell on the countless slashes that lay on his arms and the thin white lines varying in length between them. Too many, too much.

He truly hated feeling this way, feeling like this was the only way to 'cope.'

The razor slipped from his fingers, hitting the tiles with a soft _clink_.

It was done, done.

Placing a hand on the side of the tub, Techno shakily pushed himself up, stumbling for a moment before leaning on the wall. It took a moment for most of the black spots to leave his vision, but when they did, he stepped over to the sink to start cleaning up.

He carefully wet a small bunch of paper towels before kneeling to soak up the peppered specks that had fallen. It made him question just how much of his blood had been spilled on the same floor. How many nights he had spent tearing himself apart, only to be put back together much worse. But he just shook his head, there was no point.

Once it all looked somewhat presentable, he rinsed his wounds, careful to not bump them on the faucet. Then he grabbed the bandage from the cabinet and began wrapping it around his arms. It hurt, no doubt about that. But it was a good kind of pain, a seemingly welcoming kind. One he deserved.

He slipped on his sweater and spun around on his heel, now facing the door. Hesitantly, he set his hand on the handle before opening it, to be greeted with a wave of cold air. A big temperature difference compared to the warmness of the little bathroom. Turning off the light, he stepped out, his feet meeting the soft, fluffy, beige carpet. It felt nice.

What felt like seconds later, there was a gentle hand on his shoulder and a voice, "Ay, you okay? Techno?"

"Hmm?" He hummed, his gaze falling upon a familiar blond.

"You've uh, been standing there for a bit, just staring... Kinda zoned out. You okay?"

"Oh, yuh. Just not feelin' too good. 'm tired."

Then there was a warm hand on his forehead for a moment.

"It doesn't seem like you have a fever, you're just pretty pale. Are you cold?"

"Yuh."

The man nodded, looking him over, "We'll keep an eye on it, 'kay? We could watch a movie or some shit, give you time to chill?"

He preferred being alone, but knew that wasn't the best thing for him right now. There was no way that would end well for either of them.

He just nodded, standing there for a moment before stepping forward and raising his arms in a gesture for a hug. There was a quiet _oh!_ before Phil's arms were around him. Techno carefully places his arms in a way to not irritate them and carefully hugged his _dad_ back. He sighed, slightly leaning into it, allowing his shoulders to drop. 

"Are you- is everything...okay? Techno?" The man mumbled, resting his chin on his son's head.

"Uh-huh."

He heard his dad release a shaky sigh, the arms around him tightening.

Maybe he should enjoy it. It didn't seem like there was much left for him. He was just wasting away, so maybe it was for the better to allow those around him to be happy. Leave them free of worry, and when it was his time, that would be it. Nothing else.

Techno barely registered the arm slung around him, gently and carefully leading him into the living room. Phil led him to the couch, sitting them both down and putting on some shit.

Phil seemed content, not counting the bit of worry in his eyes. But his son was 'sick.' Mentally fucking sick, goddamn it.

A blanket was laid over him, giving some weight and keeping him somewhat grounded at the same time. It seemed to help, maybe keep his thoughts from drifting too far.

But then he heard a quiet call of his name, he looked up and met Phil's eyes.

"Huh?"

Phil rolled his eyes, laughing, "I said go to bed. You seem pretty tired, mate."

"Very."

After a few moments, he let his eyes drop. He was physically, mentally, and overall fucking tired.

He was done, he didn't care anymore. Why did they even care if he didn't?

They shouldn't. They had no reason to.

He wished Wilbur had left him in his room last year. He wouldn't be here, Phil and his siblings wouldn't have to deal with what little remained.

Even if it hurt them greatly, it would have been for the best. People die, that was just part of life.

It wasn't like he even asked to be here, he had no fucking choice.

It didn't matter though. Nothing changes.

The nights full of overthinking remained.

But on nights like these, there was that part of him hoping he wouldn't wake up in the morning.

He hoped. Maybe tonight, tomorrow, sometime soon.

Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> i am so tired haha
> 
> no me gustaaa ahhh


End file.
